The Suns of Liberty (Book 2): Revolution

by Michael Ivan Lowell

  Arbor got to the door. Just as he stepped though to safety he yelled down at the Guardsmen with luminescent rifles, “Aim for the legs! Take them down and take them out!”

  With Arbor’s words, Revolution watched in horror as the Guardsmen firing the luminescence turned their rifle scopes at him and the other Suns. They lowered their aim, ready to fire at their legs and cut them down. Revolution knew that “taken out” meant taken out of here. Taken alive. That’s what Sage always wanted. They would cripple the Suns, and then soon enough they would be captives again. No way was he letting that happen.

  But they were all sitting ducks. He had to think fast. They were taking aim now. None of the Suns had protection against those guns.

  No, that wasn’t true. They had one way to stop them. Revolution drew out his whip. At one time he’d had dozens of these. Now this was the last whip still charged with luminescence. Once this whip’s charge was used up there would be no more unless they could get to the Fire Fly chamber. It was all he could think of. He was out of time.

  The glowing bullets flew from the Guards’ barrels as they opened fire. He spun the whip like a propeller, and it lit up the night in chartreuse power.

  This had two effects. It created a virtual force field that, at least initially, disintegrated the oncoming bullets. And it also drew all their fire.

  The Council Guards unloaded on him. Bullets of all types were firing in from everywhere out of the black. Above, below. How could he stop them all? His arm felt like it would rip out of the socket. Sweat rolled down inside the armor. He couldn't hold it off forever—like steel shrapnel blasting against a metal wall, both bullets and whip were battered by the force of the contact. The whip began to shred against the supercharged artillery.

  The makeshift force field was shrinking rapidly. He tried to keep the span of the whip low to the floor as it rotated, protecting their legs. But as its radius shortened, the shielding it provided up top began to shrink away. It was going to be a choice: protect his team from a life-ending headshot or a freedom-ending blast to the legs.

  No way to win that one.

  Revolution pointed forward. “We’ve got to move!” he growled at the other Suns. They moved together. They made for an awkward machine. A glowing propeller in the front, sapphire blasts of energy from the rear, and Ward and Rachel cowering in between, just trying to stay alive.

  Sophia fired into the levels below and above. She incinerated two Guardsmen instantly, causing the Guards around them to scatter. She lowered her head so the glider helmet’s bulletproof visor shielded her throat from the onslaught.

  Ward kept Rachel close. At least he had some protection. She had none. At least that’s why he told himself he was doing it. He bear-hugged her as best he could, keeping his hands over her head. He just prayed they would get to the door in time.

  A terrifying thought raced through Revolution’s mind: what if Arbor was waiting in ambush on the other side of the door? What if, any second from now, he kicked it in and opened fire with the flamethrower? Or he was just sitting in wait until they got there? No choice but to take that chance. “Helius, you’re through that door first!” he yelled. She’d have to handle Arbor. He had to keep the force field going.

  “Got it!” she replied.

  The Minutemen either saw the Suns trying to escape, or Hudson had ordered them to provide more cover. Either way, they gave up any safety for themselves and charged to the railings, leaning over, opening fire on the Guardsmen in furious fashion. The barrage of gun blasts caught the Guardsmen by surprise, but the move took its toll on the Minutemen. Several took direct hits and somersaulted past the Suns.

  Ward and Rachel could do nothing but watch them fall to their deaths. Just trying to give the Suns a few more seconds to flee. Below them, on the ground floor, Council Guards were aiming all their fury at the Revolution and his bright whip. They two-stepped it across the walkway, and finally they arrived at the door. Revolution spun around so that he was in front of the door, the others all behind him. They all moved together, Ward and Rachel staying low between them as Sophia reached for the door. She swung it open and stepped through, arms out in front of her. She was ready to kill anything she saw. What she saw was...

  Nothing.

  Ward was right behind her, still hugging Rachel. When he saw Sophia step through unharmed, he shoved Rachel forward —and they all slipped through untouched. Revolution backed through and slammed the door shut. They took off down the hall as fast as they could, well aware that luminescent bullets could pass easily through concrete walls.

  Inside the cell block, the dark turned to daylight in constant, seizure-inducing spurts. The wounded and the dead fell, more bodies somersaulting off the walkways from both sides.

  A mutual disaster.

  “General!” It was Parker Hudson’s voice. “I'm still here. We're backing out. We'll keep them occupied here as long as we can. Get to the Cookie Jar, sir.” Inside his armor, Revolution smiled. That guy had guts. The Cookie Jar was the code name for the Fire Fly chamber.

  Rachel looked up from the RDSD.

  “It's this way,” she said. And they all thought about where Lithium might be waiting in ambush. Which corner was he going to come bounding around to kill them? He could be anywhere.

  CHAPTER 54

  Hollis grimaced at the locator. An image on the screen was fading in and out. A large bogie, changing shape and size. The density reading for the bogie kept fluctuating, but it had stabilized for the dozens of smaller signals, the one’s he had identified as AAVs.

  There was something weird about that big one. Something he’d never seen before.

  He zoomed deeper.

  Finally, he stopped, pulled out the gun-like device he’d used on the bottom of the destroyers. Flicked it to a different setting and pointed it into the darkness. A bright red beam pulsed into the fathoms. Something glimmered in the red light far down in the black. The gun illuminated and magnified a field of vision for the user. Hollis squinted to see it.

  From a distance, Hunley's small figure was dwarfed by the massive outline of glimmers popping in the far distance. The bogie was massive...

  Suddenly, a large metal tentacle, cast in bright scarlet, snaked out of the darkness at blinding speed, whipsawing through the water. Hollis tried to jet away, but the thing was too fast even for him.

  It whipped at him and then seemed to pass right by him. It should have hit him, but there was nothing. Like a beam of light had passed right through him.

  And then he felt the strangest sensation. Just a tug, a knot in his midsection. It could have been a stomach cramp.

  He dropped the scanner.

  He didn't know why. His hand just opened. The gun spiraled into the darkness. Instinctively, he clutched his gut. But instead of his wet suit, he felt a warm flow of current and a rubbery substance swish between his fingers.

  Hollis swooned.

  He felt the dull nub of bone and sinew. He felt the jelly of the human body. He peered down to see he was holding a chunk of his own intestines. The machine had severed his body at the waist. His brain had gone into shock and he had yet to feel the pain, and as his world went black, at least he would die with the comfort of knowing he never would.

  The lifeless body of Ramsey Hollis spun into the depths in two pieces.

  Sophia charged the bracelets. Bright blue rings of energy radiated power. She fired them at the door, and it was incinerated in an instant. The Suns of Liberty spilled into a cavernous room only to find it empty.

  “The hell? The whole Fire Fly chamber was right here. Right here,” Sophia said.

  Revolution peered about the room, searching for clues, finding nothing. The room was spotless. Too clean. He thought about how they just been set up. Thought about the luminescent bullets. The answer was terrifyingly clear. “Council's got it. Explains the bullets,” Revolution said.

  Ward glanced back at the doorway, heard the continued gunfire in the background. “Let's get the hell
outta here.”

  Revolution turned to the Suns and spoke into his com so that everyone could hear him. “We can't leave Hudson. Commander, we're coming to get you. Hold on.”

  Static clipped over their coms, and Hudson's energized voice bounced back, “Don't worry about us. We're beating it back and so are they.” Then his voice turned somber. “We're leaving a lot behind.”

  On the banks of Boston Harbor, the water began to glow white. A long line of alabaster spread across the waves. And then shiny steel orbs with bright spotlights built into their faces, called Spores—basketball-sized, covered in spikes—launched out of the waves. The Spores flew into the streets. Robotic, precise, and built to intimidate and kill, their only two purposes. They passed by The Old North Church. They tracked ahead at high speed and located their digital target: Lantern's activation signal for the Minutemen. A burst of velocity and they were on his trail. Even the Harley Vision 5000s were no match for the speed of an intercontinental Spore, designed to fly across the world in a matter of hours.

  Miles ahead, Lantern's locator device beeped to life. Without giving Bailey any warning, he screeched his motorcycle to a halt. Bailey had to skid and swerve just to avoid killing him.

  “The hell is that?” Lantern yelped, peering down at his scope.

  “Trying to be roadkill?” Bailey yelled back at him.

  Lantern ignored the complaint. His attention completely focused on the scope. No one had read more RDSD readouts then he, and he had no idea what he was looking at. “Something's wrong, sir.”

  Far behind them, down the long stretch of West Broadway, the Spores zoomed into view. Bailey knew them immediately. Hell, he'd sent more than a few Spores to do his dirty work around the globe. “Spores. Trouble! Ride!”

  They took off, the Spores in hot pursuit. Gaining on them. A Spore fired a laser. The concrete roadway beside them ripped apart. Chunks of asphalt flew into the air. The blasts were like small bombs, they carried so much punch. Lantern wondered how he'd never known of such a weapon, but he kept signaling the Minutemen. Bailey dropped back behind him—trying his best to do the only thing he could think of at the moment: be a human shield.

  The next shot zinged just over their right shoulders and pulverized the road in front of them. Lantern swerved the bike hard and Bailey followed. The 5000s leaned, almost horizontal, the two men nearly dragging their legs across the concrete as they raced around the gaping crater and under the falling debris. Bailey was impressed with Lantern's skill on the bike. A lot of pros would have gone down on that move.

  Lantern, for his part, kept trying to send the signal to Revolution, but it was still blocked.

  Bailey palmed a large pistol out of his belt. Turning back, he aimed behind him and fired. The bullet was glowing with heat. It split apart into four separate projectiles and slammed into a Spore. The orb exploded in a starburst of light. One down. Nine to go. The Spores returned fire, narrowly missing them. More concrete flew into the air. The two riders increased their speed. Zipped down the street, one after the other. The world blurred around them.

  Bailey screamed into his com, “Take a right on Dorchester!” Then Bailey hit a button on the angular console of his bike. A scope needled out of the small dashboard. Small turrets near the back wheel whirred to life.

  Gun barrels. They fired at the Spores. The side guns were less accurate, Bailey knew, but they could deliver a hell of a lot more rounds. The men slowed the 5000s to take the turn onto Dorchester and then opened up the throttle.

  The two sped down the road so fast Lantern could hardly keep up with the signals he needed to send. It went through his mind that he should have built in an automated process for this. And just as he had that thought, he missed one of his targets. “Damn it!” he yelled.

  Another Spore exploded. Then another. And another. But the world was coming at them too fast, and the Spores were still gaining. The duo narrowly missed an oncoming car—just a blur that could have minced them across the pavement. Lantern felt himself grunting from the g-force. Bailey kept firing; another Spore exploded. But they were still closing the distance, there was no losing them. Three Spores were left. And then Bailey made the decision.

  “Have you sent the signal to the Suns?” he screamed at Lantern over the com.

  “It's still not getting through!”

  They were out of time and out of options. The three remaining Spores had entered what the techs called their terminal range. The Spores never missed from inside two hundred feet. Bailey saw the Spores adjust their aim. He knew what that meant. He could read them like no one else. They had scoped in on Lantern, and in a few more seconds they would eliminate their main target. Bailey's job was to make sure that didn't happen—no matter what.

  CHAPTER 55

  “Ahead! Bend in the road! Jump!” Bailey yelled.

  “What?” Lantern thought maybe he hadn't heard him right, but then he saw what Bailey meant. In front of them was a large construction project. A sight seen less and less across the cash-strapped nation. They were building a man-made lake. Moved a bunch of poor people out to do it. There was supposed to be a big, fancy resort built on its shores—an effort to revitalize South Boston and get the insurgency moving out. It was a dumb plan, Lantern thought. But now it actually had a use, though he cringed at the thought of what Bailey was about to have them use it for. The drop off the road was eight hundred feet deep.

  “Activate your safety gear!” Bailey yelled, fumbling to grasp a pistol out of his vest with his free hand.

  “I'm a little busy here, sir!” Lantern snapped back, trying to keep up with the signals.

  “Just do it, goddamn it!” Bailey pulled the pistol free and glared down at his own activation button. His hands were full. They were out of time. “No other way!” he said into his com, and there was something different in his tone on these last words.

  Lantern noticed it.

  They reached the bend. The Spores closed on them, aimed their guns at Lantern.

  Bailey spun in his seat, no longer driving the bike. Its wheels began to swerve. He had a pistol in each hand. He fired. One Spore down.

  “Send the signal!” he screamed at Lantern.

  Another shot, another Spore down.

  Lantern was trying, but it was no use. The signal was good and blocked. Lantern quickly crossed himself, said a prayer, and pushed down on the throttle for all he was worth.

  Lining the guardrail was a long line of trees that jutted out from the side of the cliff. But straight off of Dorchester, just before the bend in the road, it was clear—a wide-open, big-sky view of the lake-to-be. Lantern’s bike smashed through the guardrail and flew airborne. Bailey's did not.

  While Bailey fired away, the wheels on his 5000 began to swerve. His bike had changed directions just before it left the road and smashed through the guardrail. It angled hard to the right, and the Spore followed it with machine-precision accuracy, now trying to eliminate him as a threat—which meant he had achieved his goal and drawn its fire. Bailey locked onto the Spore and tried to pull the trigger.

  He never got the chance.

  In that clarion millisecond of moment, he closed his eyes. Life had become so complicated for so long, he felt relief to have such a simple, straightforward decision to make. To know exactly whose side he was on. No more secrets, no more lies, no more waiting.

  With a horrendous crash, he and the Spore ripped into the tree line that jutted awkwardly out from the cliff wall. The last Spore stabbed deep into his chest, but John Bailey was already dead.

  He crashed through the trees, smashing down the rocky ledge like a rag doll. His body shredded apart in the fall, and the Spore shattered beside him. Bailey had done what he did best, one last time: protect those around him at all costs.

  Lantern’s 5000 shot out into open space. An 800-foot drop below into a man-made cavern of dirt awaiting him. He glanced back and saw Bailey's bike explode in a fireball on the rocky ledge. He didn't see his friend, but he didn't need
to. There was no more signal coming from Bailey's gear. There was no more Bailey. The Spores were gone too, but he still had not warned the rest of the Suns about the attack force coming at them from the harbor.

  And in that same moment he too had a clarion thought.

  He would have smiled were it not for the grief over Bailey. He punched a red button on his dash, and two missiles launched from side bays on his bike into the black sky high above him. They were supposed to be a last-resort defense mechanism, but Lantern put them to another use. He deactivated their charges and diverted the digital data sign into their heat-seeking signal just before he launched them.

  It took him only seconds. Lantern could do things like that. He did make one miscalculation, though: the force of their launch separated him from the bike. And he was now alone in free fall, a deadly 650-foot drop still to go, the earth below rising to meet him. He punched a button on his chest. His suit inflated with air in a second flat.

  A large ball of inflated fabric enveloped him, and he plummeted to the ground. The ball bounced several times, tossing Lantern about with each crash. The suit was intended to protect against a collision and being thrown from the bike. Falling off an 800-foot cliff was probably not what they had in mind when they came up with the design.

  Another bounce and he felt his leg snap. His stomach churned, and he tried hard not to vomit. His head bounced, his neck seized. He saw stars. He felt his back wrench, and his leg snapped again.

  Finally, the ball came to rest in the open field of the pit. It burst open as the air whooshed out. Lantern crawled out of the suit's remains, shaky and bleeding—but alive. He peered up at the rockets.